


Placing Blame

by wonderlandiscrumbling



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Comfort, Confessions, First Kiss, M/M, Mentions of Mental Illness, Mentions of addiction, Regrets, scarface and arthur penn, season five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 05:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19660651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandiscrumbling/pseuds/wonderlandiscrumbling
Summary: Oswald can't help but feel that Arthur's death is his fault, after all he had been the one to treat him horribly and push him to his inevitable breakdown.





	Placing Blame

Oswald stood staring down at the two prone bodies on the floor; one body wooden and headless, a pile of wood chips just a mere inches from the dummy’s corpse. The other body familiar, human, blood pooling beneath Arthur’s head and staining his thin graying hair. Oswald swallowed hard, tense as he focused on the dead man. This was his fault, if he’d been better to him then he never would have snuck off and left him to begin with, he then never would have gotten shot the first time let alone the second time. Arthur had been loyal without question, loyal to a fault. He’d been a good man, even at the end with a gun in hand wanting to get revenge on the man who treated him like complete and utter garbage in the past couple of years. 

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, Ed gave his shoulder a squeeze silently chastising him for growing sentimental over the dead man. Oswald didn’t look away though, he continued to look at the dead man, his open eyes, blood staining his skin. 

“He was a good man, he really was.” He chuckled shaking his head. “He reminded me of you in a way, the way you used to be.” He swallowed hard as tears burned at his eyes, he cleared his throat and cursed himself for becoming emotional for the second time today.

That’s why he’d hired Arthur on in the first place, he’d been like Ed. Quiet, meek, eager to please and willing to do anything to be at his side and in his general presence. He’d deal with Oswald’s temper, admired him in some strange way, adored any bit of kindness and affection shown to him. At the end of the day he wasn’t Ed, but the story was the same; he’d treated him poorly, taken advantage of his kindness fearing what could happen otherwise, pushed and screamed and abused him until it all came to…This.

“He was a maniac, plain and simple.” Ed reasoned.

Finally, he turned to face his friend, his still breathing friend. “I know, but he hadn’t always been that way. If I hadn’t been so horrible to him all that time, he never would have been shot, he never would have found Scarface….” 

“The dummy isn’t alive.” Ed interrupted.

A small smile graced Oswald’s lips, he knew the dummy wasn’t alive, but a small part of him wanted to believe that it had been. He had a pulling urge to fix it up to see if it would spring to demonic life, but just like Humpty Dumpty the pieces couldn’t be put back together again and while Oswald was a hell of a tailor thanks to his father’s lessons, he wasn’t great at wood work or doll reparations.

“I know that, I’m just saying that what happened today is my fault. I was terrible to him and I knew it, but I couldn’t stop myself from it.” 

It nearly felt out of body, watching himself screaming at him, at others, at people who were genuinely loyal and cared despite the risks. 

Ed sighed as he moved his hand from his shoulder to his cheek, gloved thumb brushing against the blood that stained his skin smearing it further in the process. “That wasn’t your fault, not completely. I’m not going to coddle you and say that you didn’t screw up, because you did, but he was insane.”

He wanted to argue, but he was too tired to do so. He wanted to tell him that he didn’t know him, that Arthur really had been a kind good person, not some random maniac that would have been better off locked away in Arkham. 

“Why are we here right now?” Oswald inquired.

“Because we-I’ve been building a submarine for us to escape, hopefully in two to three months time.” 

“No I mean…I know why I’m here, why I sought you out and always will, but….I don’t understand you after so many grievances.” 

He’d had his girlfriend killed, lied to him about him, to this day he still hadn’t apologized for her death or lying about his involvement in it. Ed had shot him, had come after him time and time again, screamed at him, cursed him and his very existence often with good reason. Yet they were here, several minutes ago Ed had had a clear chance to shoot him and leave without him, but he hadn’t. Here they stood, both alive and Ed with his brow furrowed looking confused at a very simple yet complex question. Ed idly stroked his thumb against Oswald’s cheek.

“What you said about fate, even what I’d said about fate years ago, you’re right.” He paused as if considering what he was about to say next. “I never told you, but when I shot you I…I became depressed, I didn’t understand why. I thought I’d killed you; I righted a wrong in doing that, but when I went back home, I felt wrong. So, Barbara offered me her help by selling me pills, claimed they’d help me stay awake and alert through the day so I could carry on as if nothing is wrong. They did help when I just took one or two a day, but then two turned to three and four and then I lost count. When I took them I started hallucinating more often, not the normal things though….I just saw you. I saw you soaked and covered in seaweed, so incredibly dead. I got addicted to the pills because when I took them you showed up and I could talk to you, admittedly you were a bastard half the time, but it was you.” He let his hand drop back to his side and took a step back from him. “I regret killing you, I know that it didn’t stick, but sometimes even now I’m absolutely terrified that you aren’t real and that I’m still just high and seeing you.”

The rambling confession was not what he’d expected to hear, it left him stunned and nearly speechless. There was fear in Ed’s eyes, he’d exposed a piece of himself, an intense vulnerability. Oswald knew he had a history, addictions, self-harm, dark thoughts and urges and actions for a good portion of his life. Yet still hearing this struck him hard, he almost wanted to scream and ask him why he shot him then, why not forgive and give him a chance to explain himself, to right their wrongs.

Instead he hugged him, held him tightly burying his face against his shoulder remembering their moment in the morgue when he’d held him like this, kissed his shoulder and nearly cried with the excitement of the possibility of finally being with him. There was a relief when Ed returned his embrace, his fingers curling against the back of his jacket as if needing to feel him, cling to him and assure that he was real. Hesitantly Oswald pressed a kiss against his shoulder, he felt Ed’s warm breath against the side of his head followed by the gentle brush of lips. 

Oswald pulled back to look up at him, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. He felt vulnerable and it scared him, they were exposing scars and fears, wants and needs, but still he was terrified that Ed might pull a gun on him, stab him in the heart as he’d promised a couple of months ago. He nearly jumped when Ed rested a hand against the back of his neck his fingers stroking against his skin. His heart hammered in his chest as Ed leaned down brushing his lips faintly against his before finally kissing him. Oswald was almost too eager to kiss back, deepening the kiss as he fisted the front of his shirt pulling him close, teeth grazing and pressing down against Ed’s bottom lip as he kissed him. Ed gave a firm tug to his hair as if asking him to ease up just a bit, they had time, there was no reason to go at it like horny teenagers.

“I take it you realize I’m real now.” He whispered against his lips; his heart was still racing as his brain worked to realize the kiss had transpired at all.

Ed smirked, “Very real.” He said before kissing him again. “Perhaps I can take the rest of the night off, we can go home and share a drink like the old days.” He suggested.

Oswald smiled, “That’s a lovely idea.” 

It was a clean start for him, for them. The world around them had momentarily ended and they didn’t know when or if it would ever pull itself back together, he wasn’t sure if there was a better time for this, for them. He refrained from speaking the three words that were on the tip of his tongue begging to be spoken, a fear still lingered with those words, but he felt certain Ed could see it as he looked at him. There was a softness in his eyes, a gentleness to his touch as he stroked his fingers against his cheek, somehow along the way he’d earned his loving affections.

He pulled away from his embrace almost regretful to have to do so for now, he turned to look at the bodies that still lay on the ground, he almost felt guilty for forgetting about them, about his friend. 

“Could you please bury him somewhere, somewhere nice?” He asked looking back towards Ed.

The other man nodded, he made no snide comments and didn’t roll his eyes. Oswald appreciated it even though he knew he was dying to do at least one of those things.

“Thank you” He said kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll see you at home.” He said before leaving him to clean up.

As painful it was to admit his own arrogance lost him another person that he cared deeply for he couldn’t help but feeling a semblance of peace at having Ed back in his life, completely in his life as he was so long ago.


End file.
